


Glass Table Boys

by theteapirate



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Untouched, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theteapirate/pseuds/theteapirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a go-go dancer at a gay bar. Zayn is a DJ, and Louis's roommate. Harry is a hot stranger. Naturally, a threesome ensues. Guest starring Nick Grimshaw as a sassy bartender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Table Boys

“Zayn, let’s have sex.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I want to.”  
  
“I’m not in the mood.”  
  
Louis scowls, kicking Zayn in the shin under the table. He puts on his best pout.  
  
“You never want to. You’re horrible. You’re so rotten to me. Do you know how many people would kill for a piece of this arse? It’s got to be somewhere in the millions. I’m a national treasure, and you practically have me all to yourself. Think seriously about your choices right now, mate.”  
  
“I don’t have you all to myself, you dirty slag, you fuck whoever you want to.”  
  
Louis doesn’t even bother to consider him. “Whatever,” he dismisses. “Don’t insult me. You’re terribly abusive to me. I’m going to find another fuck-buddy.”  
  
“No you’re not.”  
  
“Yes I am!”  
  
“No, you’re not,” Zayn says, voice lowering. Louis takes a deep breath.  
  
They’re standing in Louis’s kitchen. It’s a hot Thursday night. Neither boy has work for another hour or so. The sequence of events seems obvious.   
  
Zayn yanks Louis forward by his belt loops. Louis cants his hips forward instinctively, trying to hide his triumphant smirk.  
  
“Oh shut up.”  
  
“I didn’t say anything,” Louis says innocently.  
  
“You look so goddamn pleased with yourself.”  
  
“Well if you’re not going to please me, then  _someone_ has to--”  
  
“Thought I told you to shut up,” Zayn growls, tilting Louis’s jaw up to press their mouths together. He leans back against the counter lazily and lets Louis slip between his legs, leaning up on his tip-toes to get a better angle at Zayn’s mouth. Zayn makes Louis to most of the work, settling back against the cabinets so that Louis nearly has to climb on top of him to get at his mouth.   
  
“Are we having kitchen sex, then?” Louis whispers, snaking a hand down to squeeze at Zayn’s bulge.  
  
“No, Liam will kill me.”  
  
“You can’t honestly be scared of  _Liam_ ,” Louis returns, dragging his lips down the column of Zayn’s throat, nipping gently at his adam’s apple.   
  
“I’m not scared, I’m just a considerate roommate--"  
  
Louis cuts him off with a bite to his shoulder, taking Zayn’s hand and shoving it down the front of his pants.  
  
“Be quiet and fuck me over the counter. I’ll clean up. Pinky promise.” Louis offers Zayn his pinky, but it’s slapped away.  
  
“Not true. You’ll distract me afterwards, disappear conveniently, and  _I’ll_ have to clean it up, and in the middle of it Liam’ll show up, and he’ll whine, and then I’ll be moody again ‘cos I hate his bloody whining, and then--”  
  
“And then I’ll fuck away your moodiness, and the process will start all over again, won’t it?” Louis rasps, biting at Zayn’s chin before slipping down to his knees and tugging Zayn’s pants down just under his arse, just far enough to get his dick out.   
  
Louis hides his happy grin in the inside of Zayn’s thigh, because he’s used to getting his way but that doesn’t take away from the ecstasy of it. Zayn cards his fingers through Louis’s hair, pulling him in gently, and Louis brushes his lips over the head of his cock in response, light and teasing.   
  
He doesn’t start sucking until he feels Zayn’s nails in his scalp, erection jumping in his jeans at being hauled around like this. He takes him into his mouth, one hand on his cock and the other at the base of Zayn’s, tightening his fist the more his throat gets stuffed with cock, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks.   
  
Zayn presses his thumb into the deep shadow his cheek makes, watching his cock disappear into Louis’s mouth. He tightens his fingers in Louis’s hair, makes him take it, and Louis lets his mouth go slack so Zayn can really give it to him, make him choke on it. His hand works furiously at his own dick, knees sliding open on the linoleum, jeans tight and constricting around his thighs as he ruts furiously into his hand. Zayn’s got two hands in his hair now, fucking his face so hard that his throat feels raw already, and he can anticipate the hoarse, raspy whisper his voice will be tomorrow.  
  
He drags his fingernails lightly under Zayn’s balls then returns his fist to squeeze at his base, and Zayn’s muscles seize up, knuckles clenching in Louis’s hair as he comes down his throat, thighs shaking at the intense, jolting release of it.   
  
Louis gasps, loosening his throat so he doesn’t gag on it, though judging by Zayn’s tight grip on him, it would seem that gagging is exactly what Zayn wants from him. Louis gives his own cock a squeeze and releases into his hand, hips stuttering messily because Zayn still hasn’t let him go, forcing his face against his dick until he’s finished coming.  
  
He exhales loudly when he’s finally let go, red-cheeked and sweaty at his temples. There’s come on his chin. Zayn laughs at him, thumb sweeping proudly over Louis’s pretty face, admiring the mess he’s made of him.  
  
“I’m the best you’ve got,” Louis rasps. Zayn smiles at how wrecked his voice sounds.  
  
“I know, babe,” Zayn says, hauling Louis up off the ground. He’s shaky when he stands. Zayn takes a rag and runs it under the sink, licking gently at Louis’s chin before cleaning him up.  
  
“Come on,” he says, throwing the rag back into the sink. “We got to get you all pretty."  
  
“I’m always pretty,” Louis grumbles.  
  
\--  
  
But never prettier than when he’s onstage.  
  
Zayn slings his headphones around his neck and sits back at the stool behind his turntables, watching Louis dance.  
  
It’s busy for a Thursday. The club is bursting at the seams with students looking to get shitfaced because they don’t have class on Friday, beautiful boys in low-riding jeans and a few gaggles of girls, crowded around Louis at the bar while they down their shots. It’s the most popular gay club in their town, made even more popular by word-of-mouth whispers about the “drop-dead gorgeous” DJ and the collection of pretty male go-go dancers.   
  
It’s a silly job. Louis knows it’s a silly job. But it’s a pretty phenomenal source of income for a student and he has a steady wheel of boys to lay whenever he wants them. He always has cash on him, he’s never lonely if he doesn’t want to be, and he gets to work at the same club as his best friend. He tends bar on the weekdays sometimes, but those gigs don’t tip as well as dancing and deep down, there’s a part of him that absolutely revels in the attention. That sick nervous part of him that’s always gnawing at the pit of his stomach, shriveling up with insecurities, disappears the moment he climbs onstage in his stupid tiny shorts and his silly glittery braces, sweat slick at his temples from dancing, a streak of neon paint and glitter on his cheeks still wet from Zayn’s thumb.   
  
He mouths “Ke$ha” at Zayn, who rolls his eyes but queues it up nonetheless. Louis always wants to dance to Ke$ha. Zayn plays “Blow” and is sure to catch Louis’s eye when he suggestively pokes his tongue in his cheek. Louis returns it with a filthy wink, teeth dragging over his lip when a boy sticks a bill in the back of his shorts. Louis rolls his hips with the beat, and Zayn can’t help but lick his lips, mesmerized by the round, obscene curve of Louis’s arse in his tiny shorts, the criss-cross of his braces over the strong, lean muscles rippling in his shoulders, the exaggerated tininess of his waist, and the smooth golden lines of his biceps as Louis twists his arms over his head to grab onto to an overarching beam. He does his signature thrust, earning him a wad of bills from the crowd that’s gathered around the bar.   
  
As soon as they dissipate, he catches the eye of a boy leaning against a nearby pillar, sipping casually at his beer with eyes locked on Louis. He’s beautiful. He looks like every expensive boarding school kid Louis’s ever pined after, like every reluctantly popular class president who smoked behind the cafeteria and nailed all the hottest birds without being a dick about it, like every charming arsehole who’s never had to work for it. He’s  _that_  kind of beautiful, wearing tight dark jeans and a blazer and a lazy, effortlessly sexy grin. He tousles his brown curls and smiles charming and apple-cheeked at something his friend says, then looks dark-eyed back to Louis. Louis could swear he winks.   
  
He’s the only one who hasn’t tried to offer Louis a tip. Louis glances at Zayn, hoping to catch his eye so he can suggest the next song, but Zayn is also looking at the boy. It’s almost as if he senses Zayn and Louis’s eyes on him, because he shakes off his slouch, stands to his full height and gulps down the rest of his beer, hand huge on the bottle. Louis falters in his dance.   
  
The song ends and the boy steps closer to the bar. He’s not looking at Louis. He orders himself another beer and turns around to laugh at something his friend says. Louis glances back at Zayn, who is busy fiddling with his music. He plays Major Lazer and sits back, smiling up at Louis.   
  
Louis starts to dance again, eyes fixed determinedly on the beautiful boy. He pulls all of his best moves -- grinding his hips and showing off his arse, even sliding down to his knees and spreading his thighs suggestively, shorts tight on his bulge. Finally, the boy looks, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. Louis winks when they make eye contact, flashing his most charming, squinty-eyed smile.   
  
The boy keeps his eyes on Louis, even as he digs his giant hands in his pocket for cash. He steps right up to the bar between Louis’s knees and slips the bills into the front of his shorts.   
  
“Thanks, mate. I was wondering when you’d finally cave in to my charms,” Louis says flirtatiously.   
  
The boy quirks an eyebrow, surprised. “Were you now? Bit cocky of you, innate?”  
  
He hooks a finger in one of Louis’s braces, letting it snap against his chest.  
  
“Hey now! Don’t touch the merchandise!” Louis protests, rubbing at his nipple.   
  
“So we can only touch if you if we’re giving you money?”  
  
“I’m a broke college student, so yes, that’s the general idea, babe.”  
  
The boy smiles, sipping at his beer. “Do you have a name?”  
  
“You know something, I don’t. Parents didn’t think I needed one. I usually just go by titles of royalty. Your Highness. Your Majesty. Jesus, if you’re feeling blasphemous.”  
  
He rolls his eyes, grinning in spite of himself. “Ey, what’s Cheeky Boy here’s name?” He calls out to one of the bartenders.  
  
The bartender, Nick, a tall snarky thing who’s relationship with Louis is mostly built on quick-witted insults and fake antagonism, steps over to flick Louis on the thigh with a towel hanging by his belt loops. “This sparkly little twink is called Louis, and he needs to stop flirting with customers and get back to dancing.”  
  
“Oh sod off, Nicholas. My set’s almost done anyways.” Louis nods to Zayn, who is staring at him intensely, but concedes to let Louis off the bar anyways. He slips down onto the floor the moment he’s given the go-ahead, pleased to find that on level ground, the boy is nearly a head taller than him.   
  
“Are you allowed to do that?” He asks.  
  
“No,” Nick says, at the same time that Louis quips, “I give the DJ head. In exchange, I do whatever I want.”  
  
“Slut,” Nick says lightly.  
  
“Jealous?”  
  
“A little bit,” Nick admits, eyeing Zayn. “He’s kind of stupidly good-looking. What kind of satanic rituals did he have to perform to get a face like that anyways?”  
  
“Fuck off, Grimshaw.” Louis takes the boy by the hand and drags him away from the bar, snatching up an extra beer for good measure.  
  
“You’re paying for that!” Nick calls after him.  
  
Louis ignores him, waving away a gaggle of boys to snag them a high-top in the corner. The boy pulls out his chair like a proper gentleman.   
  
“So the DJ, then, huh?” He asks cheekily, gazing darkly at Zayn over Louis’s shoulder. “He your boyfriend or something?”  
  
“Why, would you rather have him for yourself?”  
  
The boy licks his lips, meeting Zayn’s eyes. Zayn watches them both carefully. “Dunno. He’s really fucking fit.”  
  
Louis flicks his arm. “Thought you were hitting on me!” He pouts.  
  
“I am!” He assures him, wide-eyed. “But I mean,” he continues, eyes glinting, “If you’re some sort of package deal, I wouldn’t mind taking the both of you...”  
  
“Excuse you, sir, I am honorable man.”  
  
The boy’s eyes flick up and down Louis’s body cheekily, drinking in beautiful thighs dressed in tiny shorts, strong tan shoulders, razor-sharp cheekbones. “Are you now?”  
  
“Yes!” Louis says defiantly. “I have standards. Morals, even. Besides, who are you to talk, random pretty stranger seducing vulnerable male go-go dancers in bars? I don’t even know your name!”  
  
Harry takes a sip of his beer, ducking his head a bit shyly. He seems to always be smiling. “Harry Styles.”  
  
“Harry Styles.”  
  
Harry nods, blushing. “You have to tell me your last name now.”  
  
“No I don’t.”  
  
“Please, then?”  
  
Louis bites his lip. Harry’s curls hang in his eyes - which are big and green and pleading and altogether ridiculous. “Louis Tomlinson.”  
  
“Alright,” Harry smiles. Then he coughs into his hand, grinning bashfully like he already knows that what he’s about to say is ridiculous. “So Louis Tomlinson, you uh...come here often?”  
  
“Oh my god,” Louis shakes his head, flicking Harry’s wrist. “It’s good thing you have these,” Louis leans over, fluffing Harry’s curls. Harry smiles prettily, allowing himself to be pet.  
  
“But really, how’s uh...you know.” Harry gestures to Louis’s body, which is still just clad in tiny shorts and glittery braces. “All of this.”  
  
“Fine. Pays the tuition and all,” Louis winks. “Have you been here before?”  
  
“So now you get the cheesy lines.”  
  
“Yes, but I actually want a response! I like to know if the strangers who talk to me are just strangers or you know...stalkers.”  
  
“You get stalkers?”  
  
“Yes!” Louis says defiantly. “Why do you sound so surprised? I am perfectly stalker-worthy.”  
  
Harry whistles his agreement, gaze lingering unapologetically on the fine lines of Louis’s body.  
  
“Stop gawking.”  
  
“You ask too much of me,” Harry says charmingly. Louis blinks. Harry’s so attractive it nearly hurts to look at him for long stretches of time.   
  
Louis feels a heavy hand clap down on his shoulder before he notices that Zayn’s weird remixes have stopped in favor of Lady Gaga.   
  
“You’re still wearing this?” Zayn asks in lieu of introducing himself, snapping Louis’s braces against his nipple.   
  
“Ow!” Louis pouts. “Why do I even wear these if all anyone wants to do is abuse me?”  
  
“Because you like it!” Nick shouts from behind the bar. Louis gives him the middle finger.  
  
“Anyways, you ready to get out here?” Zayn asks, bearing over Louis closely, voice low and intimate but loud enough that he’s sure Harry will hear him. Zayn avoids looking at Harry, who watches the exchange, eyes wide and guileless.  
  
“Er, I mean, like--” Louis shifts uncomfortably, meeting Harry’s eyes. “I was sort of having a nice chat.”  
  
“Oh,” Zayn says stiffly, standing up. “Well in that case I’ll just fuck off then--”  
  
“Zayn!” Louis rolls his eyes in exasperation, grabbing Zayn’s wrist when he tries to stalk away. “I really hate when you pretend to be a moody little bitch.”  
  
“Oh, so I’m just  _pretending,_ am I?I don’t even have the right to actually be a moody little bitch, is that it?”  
  
“So you admit that you’re a moody little bitch?”  
  
“Fuck off, Louis,” Zayn grumbles, snatching his wrist away from Louis, who immediately grabs for his forearm.  
  
“Oh, come on!” Louis begs. “Please don’t.”  
  
“I’m just gonna go...” Harry interjects awkwardly. “I’m sorry, for like...”  
  
“No, no, no!” Louis protests, grabbing for Harry’s arm. “Stay. Please. Don’t mind Zayn. He does this. He just likes to make me beg. It’s an obnoxious character quirk that I’m trying to shake him out of.”  
  
He realizes he’s holding both Zayn and Harry hostage, both of whom stare at each other intensely.  
  
“I mean, if he’s like your boyfriend or whatever, I really don’t want to--”  
  
“I’m not his boyfriend,” Zayn cuts him off quietly, looking directly at Harry.  
  
Harry furrows his brow, looking to Louis for a hurt reaction, but he just shrugs.  
  
“He’s not. He’s honestly just my human sex toy and roommate.”  
  
“And sort-of boss.”  
  
“And sort-of boss,” Louis amends.   
  
“Both in and out of the bedroom,” Zayn adds cheekily. Louis reaches behind himself to slap Zayn’s thigh.  
  
“Right,” Harry says, still awkwardly sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for Louis to let him go. He looks up to find Zayn watching him. The two of them next to each other are almost unnaturally pretty. Harry looks away. Privately he fears they’re trying to bewitch him or something.   
  
It makes sense at the time.  
  
“So uh...can I stay, or...”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Louis says. He lets go of Harry’s wrist, flashing a warning look at Zayn, who shrugs innocently, sliding into the chair between them.  
  
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Zayn says, fluttering his eyelashes. It’s all rather camp. Harry looks confused.   
  
“So er...what’s your name then?” Harry coughs.  
  
“DJ Malik,” He says seriously.  
  
Louis slaps his arm. “Zayn. His name’s Zayn. But you can just call him ‘Cunt’ if you like.”  
  
Harry just looks more uncomfortable. “Okay...”  
  
“And this is Harry!” Louis adds.  
  
Harry holds out his hand for Zayn to shake, which Zayn accepts somewhat aggressively.  
  
“Well uh...I’ll let you guys go back to your nice chat then,” Zayn says, offering a wide sarcastic smile before slipping out of his chair.  
  
Louis gives Harry a guilty look under his lashes as soon Zayn’s out of earshot.  
  
“I’m um...really really sorry for that strange territorial interlude by my bizarre sex toy-DJ roommate?”  
  
“It’s fine,” Harry waves him off, watching Zayn exchange words with Bartender Nick.  
  
“Would you believe me if I said his personality is usually just as beautiful as his face?”  
  
Harry laughs. “Um. I mean. Sure? He is rather intimidating to look at, I will admit.”  
  
“Aw, don’t feel adequate, Harry!”  
  
“What?” Harry’s mouth gapes open. “I never said anything about feeling inadequate!”  
  
“Oh, good.”  
  
“Are you insinuating that he’s better-looking?”  
  
“No, no, never, I wouldn’t dare,” Louis says quickly, patting Harry on the hand. He looks only mildly appeased. “So you’re ready to get out of here, or what?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Oh. I mean.” Louis scratches the back of his head. “I have to like...get dressed and stuff. Can’t really go out on the streets like this. But er, after that I was thinking we could like...go to mine?”  
  
“Presumptuous of you,” Harry says, but the wink betrays him.   
  
“Excellent then. Er...wait here? I swear I’ll be quick.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, go on...bring that outfit back to yours though?”  
  
Louis laughs. “Kinky boy.”  
  
“You’ve no idea,” Harry says lowly, eyes flicking down to Louis’s bum. Louis throws him a look over his shoulder before ducking back to the employee room behind the bar, barely dodging the flick of Nick’s towel at his arse or the strange, intense stare from Zayn behind his turntables.   
  
Harry calls for a cab, trying to ignore Zayn’s glare while he waits for Louis to change. Thankfully he actually is quick, emerging in a pair of tight red pants and a scoop-neck white t-shirt, showing off the inviting bow of his collarbone.   
  
“You ready then?” Louis chirps.   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry says distractedly, giving Zayn one last bemused look over his shoulder before ushering Louis out the door and into the cab.  
  
“You’re uh...your DJ-sextoy roommate was giving me quite the stink eye when I was waiting for you.”  
  
Louis scrunches his nose. “Yeah. I really am sorry about him. I dunno why he’s being such a little bitch today. I gave him head! In our kitchen! I put out a lot for that boy.”  
  
“I mean, it’s normal to be a bit possessive I guess? Especially for a boy like you,” Harry winks, visibly appreciating the tightness of Louis’s pants. Louis spreads his legs instinctively.  
  
“Yeah, I dunno,” Louis mumbles. The cab pulls up to his flat and Louis climbs out first. Harry blatantly stares at his arse all the way up the stairs to his door.

-

He presses Louis up against the door the moment it closes, mouth hot at his neck. Louis closes his eyes, breath streaming out of him in a shivering exhale, baring his throat to Harry.   
  
“Change back into those shorts?” Harry breathes, teeth scraping under Louis’s ear. Louis nods frantically, taking Harry by the hand and depositing him on the couch so he can change.   
  
Harry looks around the room. There are piles of books -- poetry anthologies, scientific journals, novels, thick smelly history textbooks -- and ashtrays and empty beer cans and mugs with old, dried-up tea bags still wedged at the bottom. There’s a television wobbling precariously on top of a bookshelf, and an old pizza box stacked even more precariously on top of that.   
  
“Louis, how many people live here?”   
  
“Three,” Louis calls out from the bedroom. “It’s me, Zayn, and our friend Liam. We all go to school together.”  
  
“Ah,” Harry says, flipping through a dog-eared copy of  _Leaves of Grass_ on the coffee table. “And has anyone ever cleaned in here?”  
  
“Liam tries every so often,” Louis replies. Harry hears a thump from his bedroom. “But Zayn and I are sure to always return the flat to its natural state -- a filthy depraved home for filthy depraved boys.”  
  
With that being said, Louis appears in the doorway, leaning mock-seductively against the frame. Harry lets out a low whistle. Louis’s traded the tiny black shorts he was wearing for a white pair. He still has his braces on. Harry thinks it’s quite possible that he’s never seen a more perfect body in his life -- his smooth, golden torso tapers into a tiny waist, which flares into the perfect V of his hips and bows out to the round curve of his bum. He’s got an honest-to-God hourglass figure.  
  
“Louis, you’re obscene.”  
  
Louis bites his lip, mouth curving into a smile. He does a stupid spin. Harry pats his lap and Louis crawls on top of him without hesitation, bum settling neatly over Harry’s crotch. He’s nearly got a semi already.  
  
Harry slides his hands down Louis’s back and over his bum, squeezing none-too-gently. Louis’s mouth falls open in a gasp, and Harry takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, pulling Louis in closer to him by his arse. Louis lets himself be manhandled, fingers tangling in Harry’s curls while his mouth is plundered. He tightens his thighs on Harry’s hips, thrusting forward so his erection is pressed tight against Harry’s abs.   
  
Harry squeezes his arse one last time before pulling his mouth away to take off his shirt.   
  
“Oh,” Louis breathes, admiring Harry’s body. It’s all a bit Adonis-like -- well-formed chest, rippling abdomen, broad shoulders and strong biceps, with a string of nonsensical tattoos scattered up and down his right arm. Louis ducks his head to suck a mark into the strong tendons of Harry’s neck, encouraged by the return of Harry’s huge hands to their rightful place on his arse.  
  
“Can I fuck you?” Harry whispers.   
  
Louis nods against his shoulder, and Harry pats his arse so he can tug off his shorts.   
  
“Wish there was a way I could fuck you in these,” he says lowly, digging his thumb under the spandex to snap it against Louis’s thigh. Louis’s breath comes up sharp, head thrown back as Harry fits his huge hands around his arse, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of his spine, lifting Louis up so he has to brace his arms behind Harry on the couch. Harry shimmies the shorts down so they rest just below his bum, unclipping Louis’s braces and tossing them on the ground.   
  
He’s still mostly dressed himself, with his pants pulled down just far enough to get his cock out. He takes Louis by the back of the neck and yanks him back down to sit on his lap. Louis’s been made warm and pliant, mouth opening easily when Harry presses two fingers against his bottom lip. He sucks them enthusiastically, and Harry wraps his other arm around Louis’s little waist, the crook of his elbow tight against Louis’s side, holding him close. Harry takes out of his fingers to brush them against Louis’s opening, just careful, teasing little touches until Louis grits out a “please.” Harry gives him a dirty grin and obliges, pressing in a finger, letting Louis get used to the stretch.  
  
Louis’s mouth is hot and gasping against Harry’s neck when he presses in the second, deep and searching for his prostate. Louis whimpers when he finds it, clinging to Harry’s neck and knotting his fingers in the back of his curls.  
  
“Fuck _,_ Harry --  _please_  --”  
  
Harry shifts him over to one knee and Louis sort of collapses uselessly onto his chest while Harry fishes in his pocket for a condom. He gives it to Louis, who tears open the foil and rolls it onto Harry’s cock.   
  
“Lube?” Harry asks.  
  
“Eh, it’s all the way in my bedroom,” Louis says. “Here."  
  
He slips to his knees between Harry’s legs and slicks him up with his mouth until he’s wet enough to make the slide a little more bearable. He climbs back onto Harry’s lap and spreads his knees until he’s positioned well enough that Harry can just push up into him. He holds Harry by the base of his cock and guides himself down slowly, wincing at the stretch. Harry takes him by the waist again, mesmerized by the way Louis fits so well in the crook of his arm. Louis tries to hold himself upright, braced on Harry’s shoulders, but he’s pulled down in a way that forces him to just lie against Harry’s chest and  _take it._ He hugs Harry’s neck tightly as he’s fucked into, slow, deep thrusts that make him gasp at every brush of his prostate. Harry has a tight grip on the curve under his arse where it meets his thigh, holding Louis close as his hips snap into him, lips hot under Louis’s ear, whispering encouragements.  
  
Louis’s busy muffling pleas against Harry’s shoulder when he hears the key jingling at the lock, followed soon after by the screeching sound of the door hinges. It’s Zayn.  
  
“Honey, I’m home!” He sings loudly from the kitchen, dropping his keys loudly on the counter.   
  
“Shit, shit, shit,” Louis whispers, peeling himself off Harry’s chest, staring frantically into his eyes, but they’re too late. Zayn appears in the archway between the kitchen and the living room, leaning against the wall with an infuriating, toothy grin, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
“Oh, don’t you mind me, ya crazy kids,” he says. Harry closes his eyes. “I’ll just tip-toe off to my room, you won’t even notice me!”  
  
“Would you please fuck off?” Louis moans.   
  
“I mean...you’re fucking right in the middle of our shared living room, but sure! Of course, Louis!  _I’ll_ fuck off,” Zayn says tonelessly. Louis bites his lip, looking down at Harry, and mouths ‘I’m sorry.’  
  
“Fine, we’ll move to my bedroom, alright, I’m sorry!” Louis calls after him when Zayn disappears into the kitchen to dig through their fridge.  
  
“No, no, no, ignore me! I was never even here! I don’t want to inconvenience you lovebirds. Just keep doing what you do best, Lou!” Zayn winks sarcastically, passing by the couch on his way to his room, eating a bowl of cereal. He’s sure to give Louis a lingering once-over, winking at Harry over his shoulder.  
  
“You little cunt!” Louis shouts. “If you’re going to be such a jealous twat about all this why don’t you just join in?”  
  
Harry digs his thumbs into Louis’s hips warningly, shaking his head. Louis raises his eyebrows. “What, Harry?” He teases lowly, bringing his lips close to Harry’s ear. “I thought you wanted a package deal. Come on, please?” Louis begs, eyes big and blue and innocent. The cheeky, manipulative glint in his eye betrays him. “I’d let you both do whatever you want to me.”  
  
He grinds down into Harry’s lap, feels his cock twitch inside him.   
  
“And you have to admit he’s beautiful, isn’t he?”   
  
Harry looks at Zayn over Louis’s shoulder. He’s leaning against the doorway, staring at Harry coolly, shoveling cereal into his mouth as though this is boring him .   
  
“I don’t think your friend likes me very much, Lou. Think he’d rather keep you all to himself.” He stares at Harry as he says this, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Harry’s nails bite into Louis’s arse. Louis chuckles lightly against his neck.   
  
“Tell him to come over here and fuck my mouth,” Louis whispers. Zayn winks at Harry from the doorway, setting his bowl onto the coffee table.  
  
“Not if he’s going to be a dick about it,” Harry says, loud enough for Zayn to hear.  
  
“Oh, please, Harry?” Louis begs. “Please? We’ll make it really good for you, I promise.”   
  
“Yeah, Harry, please?” Zayn echoes. He flutters his eyelashes.  
  
Harry has to admit they’re both two of the most exquisite looking people he’s ever seen. Zayn is almost Louis’s opposite -- tall and thin to Louis’s tiny curves, with tattoos scattered up and down his body. He’s got huge dark eyes and stunning cheekbones and long eyelashes and a steep quiff of black hair -- a startling contrast to Louis’s sweet blue eyes, his golden cheeks and fine, soft fringe. They’re both just so damn pretty. Harry’s cock twitches again.  
  
“Alright, yeah,” he says, voice gravelly. “Suck him off, Lou.”  
  
Louis’s eyes glitter dangerously. Zayn mirrors him, black-eyed and hungry, stepping up to the armrest. Louis turns so he’s still seated on Harry’s cock but pivoted so he can reach Zayn. Zayn takes Louis by the jaw and slips his thumb into his mouth. Louis accepts it with a sweet, submissive sort of grace, sucking gently under Harry and Zayn’s hot, heavy gazes. Harry squeezes at Louis’s arse because he’s been so busy watching their display that he’s forgotten to fuck him, and Louis starts moving again, slow, tiny circles in Harry’s lap.   
  
Impatiently, Harry brings his hand down on Louis’s arse, grabbing at his hips to bounce him harder. Louis goes sort of limp as he’s fucked into, senses blurring from the combined push-pull of Zayn and Harry as they use him, gagging on Zayn’s cock every time Harry thrusts particularly hard.  
  
“Let’s put him on his knees,” Zayn suggests casually. The slight roughness is in his voice is the only thing that gives how affected he really is. Harry lifts Louis off his lap like he weighs nothing, and Louis flushes all the way down his neck, trying to hide how turned-on he is at being manhandled so effortlessly. He’s flipped onto his hands and knees, head over the couch so that Zayn can easily resume fucking his mouth, and Harry pushes back into him.  
  
“He likes it when you hold his hands behind his back,” Zayn says quietly, eyes burning into Harry’s. He strokes his thumb over Louis’s cheek, smiling when Louis’s eyes widen desperately at the prospect of being used like that. Harry takes a deep breath. He’s not sure how much he likes Zayn telling him how to fuck Louis; it reminds him that Zayn came first, and there’s something unsettling about him despite how pretty he is, but the idea is too hot to not go through with.   
  
He pulls Louis’s arms back so they’re locked in a tight grip at the small of his back, biceps flexing, skin red and flushed as he struggles half-heartedly. The position gives him absolutely no control, because he longer has the leverage to suck Zayn’s cock. He can only take what’s given to him. Zayn grins at Harry, admiring the strength in his arms as he fucks mercilessly into Louis, the rippling muscles in his abdomen, his dark-eyed intensity and the way he bites his lip with concentration, curls falling into his face, slicking to his forehead with sweat. Louis chokes a little bit on Zayn’s cock every time Harry’s hips snap into him. His eyes water a little because he’s can’t get any friction on his cock, which is so hard it’s leaking precome onto his belly. He stares blue-eyed and desperate up at Zayn, but Zayn isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at Harry, hot and challenging, lip caught between his teeth as they both yank Louis between each other, stamina weakening second by second.  
  
“Don’t come until I tell you,” Harry whispers. He’s talking to both of them. Zayn’s legs tremble. Louis’s mouth feels so good on him, hot and wet and pliant for him, throat loose so Zayn can just use him as he pleases. It takes everything in him not shoot down his throat then and there. Louis can only squeeze his eyes shut, keening pleadingly in his throat, sending little vibrations up Zayn’s cock.  
  
Suddenly, Harry takes Zayn by the back of the neck and forces their mouths together. It takes Zayn a moment to kiss back, caught off guard by Harry’s aggression and his overwhelming need to come. Harry presses down firmly on Zayn’s neck, holding him by the jaw as they kiss, angry and battling for control. He thrusts into Louis particularly hard, forcing him to choke on Zayn’s cock.  
  
It’s at this precise moment that Harry yanks gently at Zayn’s hair, pulling away just far enough to whisper “come,” dark and rough into the corner of his mouth. Something clenches in Zayn’s belly and he’s coming down Louis’s throat, thighs shaking through his orgasm, panting hot at Harry’s mouth as he releases himself. Louis struggles to swallow it all, come slipping down his chin as his throat works desperately, tears leaking at the corners of his eyes.   
  
Harry yanks Louis back against his chest, arms still crushed behind his back, pressed tightly against Harry’s hard stomach. His head falls back against his shoulder, struggling for breath as Harry continues to pound into him, mouth hot at his neck.   
  
“Please,  _Harry,_ please can I come, please--”  
  
“Come on my cock.”  
  
“I -- fuck, I don’t know--” Louis chokes.  
  
“Come on my cock.”  
  
Louis’s on the verge of tears, and his cock looks almost purple. Zayn, still shaking from his orgasm, watches mesmerized as Harry fucks him. Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever seen Louis so _wrecked,_ and he doesn’t know who he’s more envious of -- Harry or Louis. Weakly, he kneels on the couch in front of Louis, taking his face in his hands and kissing him sweetly.   
  
His thumb strokes over Louis’s cheek as he whispers into his mouth, “You can do it, Lou,” and Louis nearly sobs as his orgasm is ripped from him, cock spurting onto his belly without being touched, and he doesn’t know which hands are Zayn’s and which are Harry’s as he’s petted and caressed and comforted, fingers reverent on his cheeks and back, combing softly through his hair. Louis’s hands are finally released and he falls limply into Zayn’s arms, come wet on his belly.  
  
“You did so good, Lou,” Zayn whispers. “Now can I have a turn?”  
  
Louis laughs weakly, nodding. Zayn kisses his forehead and gestures at Harry to pull out.   
  
Harry pulls out of him carefully. He still hasn’t come. Zayn stares wide-eyed at his cock, because he hasn’t actually seen the damn thing yet and it’s -- well, it’s big. Monstrously big. Terrifyingly huge. Intimidatingly gigantic.  
  
“Shit,” he whispers.  
  
“Yeah,” Louis sighs happily, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs into a wide V for Zayn to crawl between them. His cock lies pretty and limp against his belly. Zayn inches forward so that he can splay Louis’s legs across his lap, yanking him forward so he can tighten his thighs around Zayn’s waist.   
  
“Be a doll and fetch Zayn another condom, would you, Harry?” Louis asks sweetly. Harry just sort of stares at them darkly, bringing attention to his cock, which is still standing straight and hard and angry for release.   
  
“Zayn here’ll suck you off if you do,” Louis adds, looking at Zayn dangerously. Zayn shrugs.   
  
“Yeah, mate. So be a doll, won’t you?”  
  
Harry’s brow furrows unhappily, but he gets them a condom, handing it to Zayn reluctantly. Louis doesn’t take much prep this time, still open from Harry’s cock. Zayn slides into him easily, yanking Louis up his lap. His arms flop above his head, letting Zayn plough into him mercilessly, fingers digging bruises into his thighs, mouth falling open with cut-off little  _ah-ah-ah’s_ as his prostate is struck over and over.  
  
Zayn stares up at Harry as he fucks him, eyes liquid-dark and challenging. Harry steps to the edge of the couch, fingers combing through Zayn’s hair as he watches Louis’s pretty face while he’s fucked, the flush of his cheeks and wet blue of his eyes, fringe clinging to his forehead with sweat.   
  
“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Zayn says, voice tight with arousal. “He fucking loves this. He’s such a slut for it.” Harry just nods, tilting Zayn’s jaw up, thumb sweeping over his mouth and sliding between his lips, opening up Zayn’s mouth for his cock.   
  
Zayn looks beautiful like this, still somehow insolent and stubborn even with a cock in his mouth. He sucks Harry hard, fist tight at the base, using just the slightest drag of teeth when he moves his lips down to suck at the head.   
  
Louis whines a little, because sucking Harry’s cock has made Zayn’s thrusts lose their rhythm, so he grabs Louis’s by the hips, pressing bruises into the V, hands spread out over the bone, and fucks into him at a more brutal pace. Harry’s huge hand wraps around the back of Zayn’s neck as he fucks his mouth, finally spilling down his throat with a harsh shout, fingers knotting in Zayn’s hair as his hips stutter weakly.   
  
Zayn gasps when Harry finally pulls out, streaking a bit of come across his cheek. Harry pushes his thumb back into Zayn’s mouth, enjoying the way Zayn’s eyes close, the way it feels like he’s finally surrendered to him. He leans down to kiss him, tasting himself, and Zayn pants weakly into his mouth, his second orgasm rising dangerously in his abdomen.  
  
Harry kneels down next to the couch to take Louis’s cock in his hand, thumb stroking over the head. He’s already extremely hard, and he twitches in Harry’s hand.   
  
Zayn spreads Louis’s legs impossibly wide as he continues to thrust into him, jolting Louis with every push. Harry moves on the couch behind Louis so that he’s cradled against his chest, lips at his ear and hand at his cock while Zayn fucks him through his second orgasm, cock spurting weakly into Harry’s hand, eyelashes spiky with tears at the combined sensation of aching soreness and pleasure as Zayn finally comes with a rough cry, orgasm rippling through him.  
  
He bends over Louis’s body to kiss him, hot and deep and messy. Louis is so over-stimulated that he can barely muster the energy to kiss back, overwhelmed by Harry’s mouth on his neck, the sticky come on his belly, and the ache in his arse. He lets himself be kissed and taken care of, crushed between Harry and Zayn’s bodies.   
  
Zayn meets Harry’s eyes, pink-cheeked. He takes Harry gently by the chin and pulls their mouths together sweetly. “Sorry I was a bit of a twat to you,” he whispers.  
  
Harry smiles against his mouth. “S’alright, mate.” He rubs a bit of his leftover come into Zayn’s cheek, laughing cheekily.   
  
“I’d say you more than made up for it.”


End file.
